


Silhouette

by cycnus39



Category: Batman (Comics), Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cycnus39/pseuds/cycnus39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate universe loses something that has to be replaced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silhouette

The Bruce in his arms wasn’t his.

He had stripped off the strange Batman costume, tried his best to ignore the out of place scars and healed fractures, but everything still felt wrong. Even while heavily sedated, this Bruce’s body was tense and unyielding, drowsily tried to fight off every one of his touches, every one of his kisses. It was tiring, too tiring. After only a few minutes, he had given up on anything sexual, ended up just lying in bed holding this Bruce’s naked body against his own.

And it almost worked.

Almost.

The weight and warmth were right and the scent was almost the same.

Almost.

Then he was crying and the other universe’s Superman was in the room, standing warily by the doorway.

He couldn’t see the other Superman clearly through his tears but he supposed there was nothing really to see but a few costume oddities so he just warned low, “If you come any closer, I’ll break his neck.”

Even though all his senses told him the other Superman was terrified he’d do just that, outwardly all was calm as the other Superman asked gently, “Is that what happened to your Bruce?”

He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, had to close his eyes and hold the Bruce in his arms a little closer just to stop the image of his Bruce’s death overwhelming him, just to stop him feeling his Bruce’s larynx and vertebrae give way beneath his fingers.

“You’ll hurt him if you hold him any tighter,” the other Superman said in that same gentle voice even though he could hear the other Kryptonian heart hammering almost as loud and fast as his own. “Please don’t hurt him.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the sound of the other Superman’s voice or the sedatives finally overcoming him, but the Bruce in his arms had finally begun relaxing against his body and it was suddenly like having his own Bruce back, was suddenly as if that terrible moment in Orion’s bedroom had never happened.

“He’s not your Bruce,” the other Superman abruptly said as if reading his mind. “You made a terrible mistake and only you can stop yourself from making another one. Please, give him back to me.”

“Why?” he demanded, voice frighteningly menacing even to his own ears. “It could have been your Bruce. You could have been the one who--”

“No! If I ever thought I was capable of hurting him I’d never go near him again,” the other Superman growled back with such certainty, such conviction, that he knew he had the answer.

“So don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Come near him again.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Yes I am,” he insisted, somehow sensing the cold fear and doubt that had crept into the other man’s mind. “You know I am. What happened to...it was an accident but if I did it, you can too.”

“No,” the other Superman returned but with less certainty, less conviction.

Knowing it was now or never, he gentled his hold on the Bruce in his arms, cradled him lovingly and said, “He’ll be safe with me. I promise. I’ll look after him if you stay away.”

“Look after him?” the other Superman repeated in disgusted disbelief. “Look after him how? By keeping him drugged in your bed? That’s not a life. You can’t keep him like that and you know it. He’ll fight you every second until the day you snap his neck too.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Yes it will! You know it will,” the other Superman snarled but then went on pleadingly, “Don’t you see, Clark? You’ve crossed that line. You can’t bring your Bruce back and you can’t offer him anything but the same fate and you don’t want that, do you? You didn’t want to hurt your Bruce and you don’t want to hurt him either, do you?” the other Clark asked with such desperate hope that he had no choice but to tell the truth.

“No.”

“So give him back to me,” the other Clark continued while walking cautiously forwards. “Please. You’re the only one who can save him.”

Save him.

Save Bruce.

He had only ever wanted to keep Bruce safe.

Even then.

“I didn’t go there to hurt him,” he said softly, apologetically, not to the other Clark but to the Bruce in his arms. “I never wanted to hurt him even though he had hurt me,” he continued, stroking the other Bruce’s hair back from his face. “I loved him. I loved him so much that I would have let him go but he got me so angry. I was so angry,” he ended up mumbling into the other Bruce’s hair, desperately tried to memorise the scent and feel of it one last time before the other Clark stepped up close and gently eased his Bruce into his cape then carried him away.

Looking down at his empty hands, he expected the other Clark to leave without acknowledging him again, was surprised when he felt the other Clark pause at the doorway then turn back to him.

“What will you do now?”

For a moment he felt so hollow that he didn’t think he’d be able to answer at all. Then, without looking up from his empty hands, he said hoarse and low, “Wait.”

“For what?”

“For Orion and the New Gods to take me to a red sun penitentiary planet,” he responded flatly, didn’t add that he wouldn’t fight them, didn’t add that he planned to die on that planet -- but the other Clark still seemed to know.

“I’m sorry,” the other Clark said with such understanding, such compassion, that he had to look up, had to meet the other man’s sincere blue gaze just once more. But he was too late. In the instant it took to raise his eyes, the fabric between their universes had torn for the last time and the other Clark, the other Bruce, had gone.

 

 

End


End file.
